( Masterfully played, Sam. It hits just the right elements of shirking work and the guilt that comes with putting his own personal issues before the job. He sighs, drags a hand down his face, then shrugs out a concession. )

Yeah, alright, alright, fine. I get it.

( It's not aggression or hostility in his tone. More like a begrudging resignation, a suitably put-upon acknowledgment that Sam is right. Step number one largely accomplished, he'll stop dodging Sam and the apartment now that it feels like he can skate by without Talking About Stuff.

Get his guard down for a while, then hit him with part 2 when the time is right to strike. Playing him like a damn fiddle, Sammy. He's cognizant enough to at least tack on a warning. )

But I swear to god if you start trying to therapize me I'm hiding a raw fish in your room somewhere you'll never find it.